by Lois Richer
“Don’t you?” a wide-eyed Sara asked.
“Not anymore.” Kyle grunted when his shin bumped into one of the three recliners in the room. “This should have been trashed long ago.”
“I guess your dad loved it.” Sara hummed “Heavenly Sunshine” now.
“My mom used to sit in this old chair,” he mused to himself. “She loved to knit here, in front of the window.”
“Then there’s your answer,” Sara said. “The chair probably helped your dad remember the good times with her. Sometimes God uses memories to comfort us.”
“Sara, stop!” Kyle yelled. Her response infuriated him. “Stop telling me how good God is, how wonderful God is, how much He cares for us. I don’t want to hear it.”
She looked as if he’d slapped her. Tears welled in her amazing eyes. She made no attempt to rub them away. “I’m s-sorry, Kyle,” she stammered.
“So am I. But I can’t take it anymore.” He moderated his voice but wouldn’t back down. “I can’t hear about God’s goodness while I’m emptying out this house my father loved.”
“Kyle—” She reached out a hand.
“No.” He jerked away from her and almost lost his balance, which made him even angrier. “You believe anything you want, but you can’t convince me that God did the right thing by letting my dad die. Don’t even try.”
Sara turned away and pretended to clean another shelf, but he knew by her sniffing that she was weeping.
The next few minutes seemed like hours. Sara worked but not with the joy she’d shown before. Before she’d seemed tough, resilient and strong enough to weather anything, but she didn’t look strong now. She looked beaten.
He’d done that to her.
That was when it dawned on Kyle that Sara’s gutsy exterior hid a deep vulnerability. Why was that? What in the past had hurt her?
He had a hunch it had to do with her foster-care years and made a vow to find out, but not now. He’d hurt her now.
If you hurt someone, Kyle, you have to make it right. His father’s voice shamed him.
“Sara, I’m sorry,” he said, trying to coax her to face him. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you or demean your faith.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s just—I’m not where you are right now. I don’t know if I ever will be again. I feel betrayed.”
“God doesn’t betray us, Kyle. Not ever.” She moved to the side table where his father’s Bible lay open. She fingered the pages for a few moments. When she finally spoke she said, “God is good. He cannot be otherwise. From what I’ve heard of your father, I believe he knew that. I also believe he is at peace with God. All his questions have been answered.”
“Well, mine haven’t,” Kyle snapped back.
“God is ready and willing to listen to your questions, Kyle.” She lifted her head to study him. “All you have to do is ask them.” She touched his arm with the very tips of her fingers and then got back to work.
As Kyle watched her, a new thought crept into his brain. What would it be like to have Sara nearby to confide in? How would it feel to know she was there for him all the time?
Kyle immediately rejected that. He’d resolved not to allow any involvement in his life. He wasn’t going to be staying in Churchill, anyway.
But even if he did, what would Sara get out of a relationship with him?
The answer hit hard—a life with a cripple.
Kyle was older than Sara, but it was the kind of age that came from much more than just years. Besides, he had a hunch she was running from something herself.
In that moment Kyle realized that maybe he could help her. He’d been selfish, self-involved and thinking only of himself. He’d willingly accepted every time she offered help, but what had he given back to her?
“I have to go now, Kyle. But I was wondering…” Sara bit her bottom lip in hesitation. Then, before his eyes, her resolve moved in. “Will you take part in our grand opening ceremonies?”
“Just a small part,” he finally agreed. He owed her that at least, for making her weep.
“Great!” She threw her arms around him and hugged him, then quickly pulled away, almost costing him his balance. Her sunny smile sent a shaft of warmth straight to his heart. “See you tomorrow.”
Kyle said goodbye to her, but it was long after Sara Kane had left his house. Half-bemused by the rush of yearning she’d left behind, he slowly boxed up the trinkets she’d laid across the table, keeping only three that were precious to him. He hauled the magazines to the trash and put the newer ones on the back step. He’d ask Teddy to take those to the hospital, as Sara had suggested.
But even an hour later, the question foremost on Kyle’s mind just wouldn’t go away.
Who is Sara Kane?
He could have found a way to ask her, but it seemed intrusive. Besides, he didn’t want to know more about this disturbing woman. She was in his thoughts enough without adding to it. Besides, what if it included a man who’d hurt her? How could he respond to that? Or what if he did ask her and she mistook his question? What if she thought—well, the wrong thing. Like he was interested in her or something.
Aren’t you?
Kyle’s brain swirled with a thousand reasons why it would be a bad idea to ask Sara about her past. And for every reason the question hung in his brain, his need to know grew.
Who was Sara Kane?
Ignoring the work he’d hoped to do before the real-estate agent’s visit on Tuesday, Kyle finally sat down at his dad’s desk and booted up his laptop. The cursor blinked at him, waiting. His little finger hovered over the enter key. One click, that was all it would take to find out more about her. One click.
Sara’s expressions—happy, sad, excited, worried, troubled—all of them passed through Kyle’s mind. Sara, who worked so hard to make others happy. Sara, who always tiptoed lightly around others’ feelings. How had she become that way?
Kyle wasn’t aware of the passage of time until suddenly, as the moody shadows of the evening filled the room, he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pry into her past. Not yet.
He’d win her trust and learn her story the old-fashioned way: by talking to her himself. Lives’ grand opening offered the perfect opportunity.
*
“I can’t believe I agreed to cut the ribbon.”
Kyle studied the throngs of people who’d shown up for the grand opening of Lives Under Construction.
“The persuasion of a woman is a powerful thing,” Teddy agreed. “Especially if that woman has an innocent, vulnerable look like our Sara.”
“Our Sara?” Kyle frowned.
“Haven’t you noticed?” Teddy asked. “The whole town’s adopted her. You’re not the only one who cares about her.”
Kyle took a second look at his friend’s face. Something unspoken lingered under those words, some hint that suggested there was more to his appearance here today than a simple favor.
“I do care about her—as her friend.”
“Did I say differently?” Teddy smiled the smug grin Kyle hated.
“No. You implied it.” He glared at the big man. “You think I’m doing this because I’ve got some kind of a crush on Sara Kane?”
“There’s that chip on your shoulder again.” With a look that said he’d been maligned, Teddy moved to greet one of the town’s council members.
Kyle knew Teddy was hinting that he was getting involved.
“You look good,” Sara said as her eyes scanned him, taking in every detail. “I’m sure you look amazing in your uniform, too.” Surely she hadn’t overheard his conversation with Teddy.
“It’s—uh, at the cleaners.” Stupid. There was no dry cleaner’s in Churchill. He licked his lips and swallowed nervously.
“Do all these people bother you?” She patted his arm, her sunny smile warming him. “Don’t worry. Once we get started it won’t take a minute for the mayor to declare Lives is officially open. Then you can disappear if you want.”
“Sure.” Kyle didn’t e
xplain his worry that the mayor would make some reference to him being a veteran and draw attention to his damaged leg. “It’s a pretty good turnout.”
“Curiosity is a powerful motivator,” she murmured, again revealing her insightful nature. “I only hope I have enough food.”
“Are you kidding?” Kyle had seen the long tables with their pristine white cloths and the trays of edibles. “You’ve got enough to feed an army.”
“Thank you, Kyle.” Her smile flashed as she touched his arm again. “You always know how to cheer me up.”
“Any news about your mom?” He asked mostly to get his focus off the tingle of her touch. When the joy leeched from her face, he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
“No. I haven’t been able to find anything.” The glow in her silver-gray eyes dimmed. “I don’t know what else to try.”
“Maybe when this is over, we could take another stab at it,” he offered. Then he wondered why he’d made the gesture. He didn’t want to get more involved in Sara’s life. He’d deliberately stayed away from Lives this past week as much as possible for just that reason.
But the sadness on her face made him want to help.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind, Kyle?” The sparkle returned to her eyes, picking up the glints of silver in the scarf she wore knotted at her neck. Her voice was full of hope. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he told her, mesmerized by her gorgeous smile.
“Thank you.”
“Sara, I have to ask. What happens if you can’t find your mother?”
“Then I look for my father.” She fixed him with her gaze. “I have to find my family, Kyle. It doesn’t matter where they are or what happened to them, or why they left me. I have to find them.”
“Good for you.” He saw Laurel marshaling the various dignitaries to get them on the little platform. Kyle had to get up there before things started. He wasn’t about to let the entire town see the gimp stumble, or even worse, trip. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said.
“You will.” Sara’s eyes held his for a moment before he drew away.
Because she was watching, Kyle forced himself to walk without the limp that usually accompanied his steps. He made it to the platform and negotiated his way onto it without mishap. Jubilant, he stood exactly where Laurel told him to and faced the crowd. Thankfully her speech was short.
“I’m delighted to welcome you here today. Our children are our future. But how can they build that future unless they learn to reject the violence that is so pervasive in our world? Our goal at Lives Under Construction is to show those who come here that there is a better way, a way that they will find if we stand beside them, guiding them, showing them love for themselves and for others. Thank you.”
The mayor then stepped forward and gave his short speech with no mention of Kyle, to his relief. Then the president of the chamber of commerce announced, “I hereby declare that Lives Under Construction is officially open.”
On cue, Kyle stepped forward and snipped the ribbon held by the dignitaries. A burst of clapping ensued.
“Please join us in celebrating our grand opening,” Laurel said, indicating the tables of tea, coffee and punch, which the boys manned.
People began chatting with their neighbors. Laurel thanked Kyle for his help then hurried away to make sure her students were doing their jobs properly.
“Good work, Kyle,” Sara said, grinning. “You could be a professional ribbon cutter.”
“Yeah,” he said, wondering if that was all he was good for now. Caught in his thoughts, he stepped off the platform onto a bit of spongy rock moss he’d specifically avoided earlier. His knee buckled and in a flash, Kyle was flat on his backside with the whole world watching.
Furious with himself, he struggled to rise but his prosthesis inhibited his movements.
Without a word, Sara slid her arm under his shoulder and around his back. “Lean on me, Kyle,” she murmured.
Pain radiated through his hip and down to his stump. He could hardly breathe for the agonizing spears that shot through his body. Somehow Sara managed to get him upright. He felt rather than saw her motion with her hand. A moment later three of the boys clustered around him, shielding him from the onlookers.
Then Kyle heard shy, quiet Rod say in a loud voice meant to carry, “There’s pie, lots of it. Lemon and apple and chocolate.”
The crowd shifted like a school of fish, their interest in Kyle forgotten.
“Inside,” Sara said to the boys. “Let’s use the side entrance. It’s closer and we don’t have to go through the crowd.”
“I’m going home,” Kyle argued, furious at his weakness. “Get Teddy.”
“Teddy’s holding court, creating a diversion. Use it,” Sara ordered. Her implacable expression brooked no discussion. “Use us to walk, Kyle.”
“Wonderful idea,” he puffed, trying to spare her his weight and unable to do even that. “Wish I could do it. But thanks to God, I can’t even walk anymore.”
Sara glanced at him but said nothing more until he was inside and seated on a chair in the computer room. She got his leg straightened and resting on a stool, then sent the boys back outside, except for Tony, their newest arrival, who’d flown in just yesterday. She ordered him to bring ice and a towel. When he’d left and the two of them were alone, Sara clamped her hands on her hips and glared at him.
“You blame everything on God, don’t you, Kyle?” He’d never heard her voice so harsh.
“He could have—”
She didn’t let him finish.
“Yes, yes. God could have kept your father alive, He could have saved you from losing your leg and He could have kept my family together.” Sara bent, placed her hands on the arms of the chair Kyle was sitting in and leaned forward until her face was within inches of his. “But He didn’t.”
“Exactly.” He leaned back, thinking he’d proven his point.
But Sara was just getting started.
“So what are you going to do now?” she demanded. “Spend the rest of your life blaming Him?”
“I don’t have any rest of my life,” Kyle snarled. “My life is over.”
“Really?” Her fingers slid around his wrist. “There’s still a pulse.”
“My life is over, Sara,” he repeated. “Why can’t you accept that?”
“Because it isn’t true.” She drew another chair forward and sat in it, facing him but farther away, for which Kyle was thankful. Her nearness, as usual, did odd things to his heartbeat. “I’ll accept that your life as you knew it is over. Now it’s time to reinvent yourself.”
“As what? A cripple who can’t even stand up in public? As the guy everyone feels sorry for? Embarrass myself like that again?” He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “Sorry, can’t do that. Won’t do that.”
“That isn’t what I meant and you know it. But a little embarrassment isn’t the worst thing that could happen to you.” She took the ice and towel Tony brought, made a pack and placed it on the exact spot where the pain was the greatest.
As the chill penetrated the pain, Kyle wondered how she knew exactly where to put the ice pack.
“I’ve got to get back out there,” she said. “Laurel is counting on me to keep the food coming. Can we talk about this later?”
“I doubt it.” He tried not to show how much pain he was in. “If I ever imagined, even for a minute, that I could be a contributor to this community, that dream was smashed out there. I can’t even stand up.”
“We all trip at some time in our lives. Maybe you should let yourself lean on us while you try harder.” Sara’s amazing eyes held him in their grip for several moments. Then she rose, smoothed her plain black skirt and straightened her shoulders. “Stay here. Tony will get you whatever you need. I’ll see you later.”
Furious at her intimation that he’d given up too easily, Kyle waited until she was almost out the door before he spoke again.
“You want me to start over, Sara? Well, I’m
going to do exactly that. Just as soon as I sell the house.”
Sara paused for one infinitesimal moment then kept walking.
Anger seared through him. Why couldn’t she understand? Why couldn’t anyone understand what he’d lost?
“Help me get out of here,” he said to Tony, but the boy shook his head.
“I haven’t been here long but I know one thing. Sara says you stay then you stay,” he said. “Want to play checkers?”
Kyle wanted to explode at him. But what good would that do? He shook his head.
Tony watched him for a moment then sat across from him. “Can I ask you something?”
“I suppose.” Why had he ever agreed to come here today?
“At school they told us there are polar bears around here.” Tony studied him. “Did you ever see one?”
“Sure.” Kyle shrugged. “My dad and I used to take tourists to see them. The ice is pretty much gone from the bay now, so most of the bears are gone, too. I don’t think you have to worry about running into one.”
“I’m not worried. I’d like to run into one. I want to know what they’re like.”
Kyle frowned. “Why?” he demanded.
“My grandmother was Inuit. She’s gone now, but she used to tell us stories about Mother Bear. I wish I’d listened better.” Tony’s expression was filled with sorrow. “I thought I hated being part Inuit but it’s like hating a part of myself. You know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He adjusted his ice pack. “My dad knew a lot of the old stories.”
“Can you tell me some of them?” Tony begged.
Seeing the keen interest on the boy’s face, Kyle launched into the first story that came to mind. As he began, he was besieged by memories of the intonation of his father’s voice. But then the power his father had infused into the story took over and he strove to do justice to the moral of the tale.
For the first time in months, some of the joy Kyle had felt before he’d left home for Afghanistan surged back, and he tried to share that with Tony.
But when Tony had to go, Kyle was left in the room on his own. And the self-doubts assailed him. Was that all he was good for now, storytelling?
It wasn’t enough. With a pang of frustration he realized this afternoon had served one good purpose. It had shown him more clearly than ever before that he was fooling himself to cling to Sara’s assurance that he could resurrect some kind of life in this place.